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I have been very inspired to make some pea soup thanks to seeing it on the Instagram feeds of many people whom I’ve been following keenly lately. I find the bright green hue of pea soup very, very attractive. We feast with the eyes first, as I say often. The colour green itself denotes good health, promotes a sense of calmness, and has associations with healing. Peas are still in abundance on the market right now, as I mentioned in my previous post on peas paratha (I hope you enjoyed that one; always happy to hear from you!). So my inspiration, which became both my photographic and culinary craving, was fulfilled. So, of course, was my appetite.

The technique that I find works best while making soup is to ensure that the flavour of the vegetable used is not drowned through the addition of too many spices. What I also enjoy deeply is tasting the flavour of the vegetable itself. You may have noticed this about my zucchini soup recipe too, which kept things minimal so as to elevate the key element. Personally, I also prefer my food in general to not be intensely spicy. This is rather un-Indian of me, but I do love to savour every ingredient. To me, when you cook and eat mindfully, you can taste the season of the harvest, the sunshine and natural elements that raised the crop, the work of those who brought it to us, and of course the love within the preparation itself. There is something about such an experience that contributes to well-being, just as much as power-packed ingredients ensure that our health and immunity stay strong.

In fact, when I was studying Macrobiotics, we were taught to hand-crush rather than use a blender. So the ingredients would be coarsely ground. In a soup, we have not just the liquid, but could also chew on the small pieces. This was where I learned the unique pleasure of slowly tasting the vegetable properly. Coming from a traditional Indian household, I hadn’t really grown up with soups, even though my mother was very inquisitive about culinary methods and was among the first in our community to take baking and foreign cooking classes. So I did not get into them until much later, and my fondness for them is associated with that time in my life where I learned all about the Macrobiotics ethos and began to observe the difference it made to my life. In fact, have a slight preference for soups over salads (although I do love both, as you know), and that is probably for this reason.

A mindful and mildly-seasoned method of preparing soup helps you distinguish between the different kinds, the different vegetables used. In the case of this recipe, if you have access to homegrown or organic peas, you will especially notice the distinct flavour. Those can be particularly sweet and fresh. They also cook faster. Soups are easier to consume as well, and are both filling and light at the same time. I hope you’ll explore my other recipes in this category if you are a fan of them too.

 

Pea Soup

(Yield: 2 servings)

 

1 cup shelled peas

¼ cup spring onions

2 teaspoons olive oil/butter

Salt to taste

A pinch of pepper

2 cups hot water

1 tablespoon fresh cream (for garnish)

 

Add the olive oil in a pan. Once it has heated, add the spring onions. Sauté for a few minutes, until tender.

Then, add the peas. Stir, lower the flame and cover with a lid. Allow the peas to cook until they are tender to the touch.

Add the hot water and then add salt and pepper, to your preferred degree of seasoning.

Stir, then remove from the flame. Allow to cool. Then, blend this peas mixture into a thick, coarse purée. You may use your blender for convenience, or you may experiment with the Macrobiotics way described earlier.

Return the blended mixture, now a proper soup, to the pot. Allow to cook, stirring occasionally. You may adjust the water quantity to your preference.

One it has cooked, scoop out the soup into bowls and serve garnished with fresh cream. You could also sprinkle some more spring onions, fresh and finely chopped.

As I said earlier, the secret to this one is really in keeping the spices as minimal as possible. I believe that salt, pepper and a hint of lime (if you like tanginess) are more than enough to add flavour to a good soup, and everything or anything else is an additional twist.

Soups are always soothing to consume. They really are a comfort food. I hope you’ll enjoy this one as much as I do, and that you have the kind of experience that I do when I have it – savouring the taste of the peas slowly and enjoying the warmth of the soup.

 

Peas are in abundance right now – they are in season, cheap to purchase, good for health, and I for one am glad they are flooding the local market. It feels like I am making something with them every day. Recipes I’ve shared with you in the past, like this harra bhara kebab, pea-pomegranate festive kachori and chura matar are being relished at my dining table. I’ve even begun using peas as substitutes for staples. For instance, I usually send my family members off to their offices with some aloo paratha in their tiffin carriers, but the potatoes have been swapped out for – you guessed it – peas. I would like for you to experience the lovely pea-stuffed parathas that they are enjoying at the moment too, so that’s exactly the recipe that I’ve decided to share this week.

Since I am now preparing as well as eating these pea parathas daily, I’ve observed that they are healthier and lighter than aloo parathas, which makes them more suitable for the mid-day meal when one’s work has to be resumed after. The best accompaniment for them is yoghurt and a cup of simple salad – add these two elements and you’re all set with a nice lunch. Traditionally, parathas are meant to be generous in size, but I prefer to make them small. They look pretty and dainty, fit more easily into your Tupperware or tiffin carrier, and the overall presentation just looks and feels nicer. That’s quite important for any meal, not just a special one. When a loved one opens their lunchbox at the office, the dishes within would have been prepared hours earlier and may no longer be warm or as fresh, so making them look attractive makes a difference.

I’ve been using peas grown in my region, but I must admit a preference for those harvested in Jaipur or Delhi at this time of year. The weather there is more conducive to this vegetable, and the yield is smaller in size and so sweet that it can be eaten raw (and even used in desserts, like in peas halwa). I have friends who grow peas on farms there, and visits from or to them during this season would always include some fresh produce. Sadly, no one is able to travel much at the moment, but the local variants are still much enjoyed in my home.

As I was preparing the peas for my photo shoot, I smiled as I recalled helping out in the kitchen when I was growing up. When we were kids, my siblings and I would have a competition about who would peel and shell the most peas. These were a chore that our mother often assigned to us, and this is how we would make it more interesting. The winner had no reward and the loser had no punishment, but this game was just a way for us to pep up a boring activity. Once again, as I did while sharing the previous recipe, I reminisce about how kids of my generation always found ways to keep ourselves entertained. We were innovative and creative in the absence of technology. What sorts of games did you play to make chores go by faster?

Peas Paratha

(Yield: 4-6)

 

Peas stuffing

1 full cup crushed green peas

1 teaspoon aamchur powder

1 teaspoon roasted cumin powder

1 teaspoon ginger/green chilli paste

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon oil (to roast the peas)

 

Paratha dough

1½ cups whole-wheat flour

Salt to taste

1 teaspoon oil

+ Oil for shallow frying

 

Divide the dough and the stuffing separately into equally-sized small balls (lime/lemon-sized).

Roll one dough ball out, and place a spoonful of the peas stuffing in the centre. Gather the dough around the peas and make a smooth round ball, using gentle pressure.

Dust some flour onto the ball and roll out again delicately, making sure the peas do not come out of the dough.

The method of stuffing the paratha with peas is similar to the method for making puran poli, which you can refer to in this post here.

Heat the tava over a medium flame. Once it is hot, place the rolled paratha on it and cook. Flip and spread a ½ teaspoon of oil evenly around the edges and shallow fry both sides until light golden brown spots appear. Repeat with the remaining parathas. Serve.

As I said earlier, some yoghurt and a bit of salad are great accompaniments, but even eaten on its own this peas paratha is flavourful. It is a perfect light meal, and it is lunchbox-friendly, cost-friendly and health-friendly too!

 

 

The lovely thing about India is that on the levels of states, communities and right down to homes, the very same dish or category of dishes will be prepared with a unique twist. Whether they are delectable main courses or fun snacks or refreshing beverages, we have so much variety across our cuisines here, even when it comes to staples. They are also eaten in different ways, at different times of day. So it was a pleasant surprise when I encountered this tasty green peas dish, known as chura matar (literally – “poha and peas”), at the home of my very dear friend Vrinda in Jaipur one morning. Poha in and of itself is often a breakfast item, and the inclusion of peas (something I was not used to encountering in the morning meal) elevated it to a new high. What a great start to the day it was!

All breakfasts across India are healthy. I know some of you will disagree by bringing up something like the aloo parathas of Punjab, but there’s a simple reason why a heavy meal is eaten in the mornings. Days tend to be busy, and getting a proper boost of nutrition to tide a person through many hours is important. When you think about how this is especially true for those engaged in labour work, who may not be able to sit down for three square meals, the logic is evident. So whether that’s fried pooris or idlis made of rice flour, that first meal of the day is designed to go a long way. In Maharashtra and Gujarat, people often begin the day with poha, or flattened rice. It’s also an ingredient in special dishes like Diwali chevdo or the sweet dudh-poha made on Sharad Purnima. It’s eaten across the subcontinent, and is known here in Tamil Nadu as aval. I recall also having it steamed and topped with jaggery, as served by a friend I was visiting in Assam once.

Chura matar is a traditional dish from Uttar Pradesh, where the poha is deep-fried. Our version here is a healthier one, sautéing and steaming the poha rather than frying it. People from Uttar Pradesh may find this strange, but as a Gujarati raised in Tamil Nadu, my cultural influences are diverse and have an effect on my culinary choices too. Gujaratis also have a version of this dish, mixing the peas and poha – but when the vegetable is in season, you get so much of it that you may as well make it the star of its own dish and serve it separately too.  Green pea season in India usually takes place in November, and the markets are simply abundant with the vegetable then. However, they grow year-round, as you may remember from one of my recipes that fondly recalled the Ooty summers of my childhood, where peas were known as “English vegetable”. My memories of the Nilgiris aren’t the only ones that this ingredient rekindles. In fact, especially in this time of no travel, they make me miss the north of India in a big way. All my trips to Gujarat while I was growing up, and my later journeys to Rajasthan (such as when I visited the friend who shared this recipe with me) come back to me vividly when I eat this dish. I miss the exposure to a wide range of delicacies, and discovering so many new treats. It’s a pleasure to be able to evoke those experiences in my own kitchen.

Even though we are technically off-season at the moment, I am writing this now because I am missing Vrinda and craving her chura matar. It’s funny how food is sometimes connected to a person. A roti or puran poli always reminds me of my mother, who taught me how to make those dishes and enjoyed them too. A stir-fry always makes me think of my daughter, who loves them. We absolutely connect recipes to people.

I learned through Vrinda that the younger the pod, the more beautiful the flavour of the peas within it. There in Jaipur, these are called colloquially as “zero number” in the local markets, to indicate the smallness of their size. The best peas are harvested right at the beginning of the season, before they are fully grown.

We are fortunate in India to have easy access to fresh and affordable green peas, and in years past I’ve often frozen batches while the season is in full swing to use later. Even before peas became widely cultivated in India during the colonial era, we have always had our own lentils and legumes. You could think of them as being native versions of peas. Green toor dal or split pigeon peas, red rajma or kidney beans, green channa or chickpeas, and so many more make up this list. Steamed, salted, eaten plain or dressed up with different flavours, they make great pea substitutes too and work especially well in salads. The South Indian sundal is a favourite of mine.

Another food item that I freeze often are chutneys. I make large batches, then freeze them in small single use portions. I do this with my sweet, tangy date chutney and my green chutney, among other variants.  This chura matar is chutney-free, because it doesn’t need it, since the green peas add a soft texture to the medley of basic elements. But you may enjoy using it, so feel free to add some if you would like to.

Without further ado, here is the chura matar recipe that I’m sharing today. I would love to know what your own take on it is too. I keep saying the same thing over and over on this blog, but it’s true: every cook makes their own version. My kitchen has its flavours, as do yours. My hands have their own type of love, as do yours. There’s what I’ve been taught, and what I’ve been exposed to, and the same goes for you and your own experiences. But the one thing we all have in common? A passion for all things delicious!

 

Chura Matar

(Serves 2-3)

 

For the poha

70 grams / 1 cup raw poha (it will become 170 grams or 1½ cups after soaking)

50 grams / ½ cup finely chopped onions

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

2 tablespoons oil

A few curry leaves

1 green chilli

Salt to taste

Juice of ½ lemon

1 teaspoon sugar (optional)

 

Peas

1 cup frozen peas

1 teaspoon oil

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

½ teaspoon ginger paste

Salt to taste

 

Topping

Onions (finely chopped)

Tomatoes (finely chopped)

Coriander leaves (finely chopped)

A squeeze of lemon

 

First, rinse the poha under water and allow it to drain. If the poha is of the thin variety, draining alone will do. Otherwise, soak it for half an hour.

In a pan, add the oil. Once it has heated, add the mustard seeds and wait until they splutter.

Then, add the green chili and onions. Once they are golden, add the soft, soaked poha. Next, add the salt and sugar (if you are using it). Stir well on a slow flame, gently. Set aside.

Now, prepare the peas. Add the oil in a pan and add the cumin seeds. Wait until they turn aromatic. Now add the ginger paste. Stir, and finally add the peas. If you are using frozen peas, make sure you allow them to cook long enough to turn soft. Set aside.

Use a shallow serving platter to assemble the dish. First, place the cooked poha as a layer. Over this, add the peas as a layer. Top this with the healthy garnish of freshly chopped onions, tomatoes and coriander leaves. Finish with a dash of lemon juice. Serve.

Now that remembering this fabulous chura matar has brought it into my repertoire, I envision making it for evening treats, as a filler between meals, and even as full meals (such as breakfast!). Do try this one out, and let me know what you think in the comments.

There are always beautiful things that we learn from our parents, grandparents and in-laws. The kitchen is one such space of knowledge shared and passed on. When I got married into the family (in India, due to the joint family system – one marries families, not individuals!) I had the chance to learn more than I had imagined. My mother-in-law is an educated woman who enjoys cooking, and coming from different regions of the country, she and I had different styles and methods. We would often argue about how my family would make a dish a particular way, while she would insist that her family’s recipe was better. So it was with her kachoris, a delicious regional variant of the internationally-ubiquitous samosa.